One-and-a-half years out of my last relationship, my single ladies swagger had finally fallen into place. Balancing medical school with extracurricular activities, on top of spending time with family and friends and then juggling dates on a regular basis, balance was in order and life was good.

And then, I met Jason.

Jason and I met at the university gym. He was doing planks on the mat; I was doing floor stretches. Unlikely time and place, and more so--nobody looks attractive when they are heaping hot messes of sweat. He was a business school student, and though there were no overlaps between either of our programs, we were already indirectly networked through the MD/MBA joint program on campus.

We said our names to each other exactly once. A couple of guys approached him soon after, and feeling like I didn't want to intrude, I left and said goodbye.

Later that night, I found an email from him. I had no understanding of how he got my email, but the stalking that he had to accomplish to find my email address and add me on Facebook (despite me being almost impossible to find) was somewhat flattering and less creepy.

Two weeks later, I'm sleeping over, we're cooking breakfast, and making Valentine's Day plans. This is moving so fast. How did we get here? Where are we heading?

He's moving to New Jersey in June after he finishes his program.

June is four months from now. We've got time.

But do I want time? I don't want to fall for him--this can't end well.

I can't leave California, and I would never ask him to stay. I know I'm over-thinking this, but as defensive, guarded, and as afraid as I am of my own emotions, the thought of emotionally investing in something, someone for the short term is mortifying.

Take things slowly--breathe.

Taking a deep breath,

Shopgirl.

Merry Christmas!

To make up for the past years' less than ideal amount of celebration/gift giving, I devoted a large amount of break painting Christmas cards, brainstorming and getting gifts for friends and family. With what started as a goal to be more artistic and sentimental, led to a small tinge of impatience at the length of time it takes to complete the cards and gift boxes. While I'm proud of my work, I doubt I'll have the luxury to do this every year. I hope to find a happy balance with practice.

In the end, what's most important is the memories that you build with family and friends during the holidays. My family isn't particularly festive when it comes to winter time, since we have forsaken the tree for the past few years. It's cool though; I don't really feel like I'm missing out on the Christmas experience. What we ended up doing last night was play many rounds of mah-jong, which I successfully made sure to lose each game. My mom isn't particularly verbal when it comes to her past, but it was so much fun for my sister and I to drill her a bit about how she met my dad. While she claimed not to remember the details, we were able to gather that they met at the computer lab during graduate school.

Me: "So how did it happen? Did Daddy have trouble turning on his computer and needed your help?"

Mom: "No... he just had a technical question and I was the computer assistant."

Me: "Like how at Berkeley there were students who were overseeing the lab?"

Mom: "Yes."



Sister: "Daddy, we're trying to figure out how you and Mommy met."



Dad: "I had a question about a computer program, so I asked your mom. And she just stood there for a long time, with a frown on her face." "And she's standing there, trying to figure it out."

Dad: "And I was thinking, she's supposed to know! She's the computer assistant!"



Mom: "Come to think of it, I don't know how I got that job. I just wanted something to put on my resume."

Dad: "I know, I was thinking, 'What's she doing? She's kind of stupid.'"

Me: "Really?!"

Dad: "Kind of."

Sister: "So how does that make you guys meet then?"

Dad: "Well, I was taking a computer class at the time, so I went back there a lot. It was a small school."

Oh, parents. Needless to say, they have a very happy marriage now. And I'm realizing more and more how lucky I am to have parents who have unconditional love for me and my sister, and for each other. A part of me wonders how far I would have gone in life if it weren't for that. Would I have been able to do as well? If not, where would I be now? I'd like to think I brought myself this far on my own, but it's impossible to separate it from my environment.

In seven months, I'll be in SF going to dental school. I'll probably start working with a handpiece in the second week, seeing patients in my first year. Take the board exam early in the second year, etc. It will be intense beyond belief... but I can only take it one step at a time and hope for the best.

A Thanksgiving short/blurb

It's Black Friday, and I'd almost forgotten the fight I would have to put up just to find a dinky little parking spot. (I just want to go to Coffee Bean, people--promise!) Though I love shopping, I have never understood the insanity of Black Friday bargain hunting. During Thanksgiving dinner last night, my aunt boasted about how she was going to be up at 4 AM to do some Walmart shopping. Walmart is crazy enough during the off-season (see Creatures at Walmart); I couldn't imagine what goes on in there during Black Friday.

Luckily, I found parking and made it to Coffee Bean safely. I'm sipping on a Japanese Cherry green tea latte--pure heaven! I haven't been to this Coffee Bean in ages, namely because my stalker frequents this location. Glad to know he's not here today... or so he's making me think...? :(

It's easy to forget the "meaning of Thanksgiving." Growing up, I remember something about the pilgrims making friends with Squanto, an American Indian, despite the fact that the pilgrims brought disease (amongst other things) to the Americas and wiped out several tribes. Ok, so I didn't learn it that way--but we all know it's true.

So we put together a cornucopia filled with the season's harvests and place it next to a turkey. I'm not even sure that the pilgrims really had turkey. Did you know that the pilgrims probably ate eel during their momentous feast? (See Give Thanks for... Eel? - NYTimes.) Imagine that on your dining table, in between the potatoes and the corn.

That's the beauty of Thanksgiving, though--the act of giving thanks is purely subjective. No, my ancestors didn't come to America on the Mayflower--they came by airplane. Any by ancestors, I mean parents. Our Thanksgiving dinner is celebrated with pancit and kikiam, a Filipino-Chinese variation of meatloaf, which, by the way, is nothing like the meatloaf that Bobby Flay makes. All of this variation on giving thanks makes reason for celebration even more valid.

***

I remember sitting in class, an awkward little fourth grader amongst other dorky kids, when my teacher asks us what we wanted to be when we grew up. Everybody seemed to mention a particular job or career, though it never occurred to me that we never expected answers like "I want to be a gracious and balanced friend/daughter/son/parent." I think these are aspirations that are often overlooked and rarely emphasized during adolescence. But thank goodness I was able to find a loving group of people to keep me in check because I know I can't thank them enough for putting up with my absolutely obnoxious attitude. Thank you, ever so much, for being amazing and positive influences in my life. I wouldn't, couldn't be here without you!

Grateful and full of thanks-giving,
Shopgirl.

Another chicken vs. egg analogy

lemontea: How long does rubber cement take to dry?

Shopgirl: A few hours, tops.

lemontea: So, do you think leaving the glue to dry overnight is long enough to keep the penis in place?

Shopgirl: Oh, yeah, totally. I used to use that crap all the time.

Before you go on--no, this isn't some bizarre anatomy project or piece of abstract art here. In fact, I almost wish I were speaking about a bizarre anatomy project or "piece of art." Moreover, I wish the subject was just as or more innocent than either the former or the latter.

Unfortunately, we are referring to the vibrator that lemontea's ex-boyfriend had so lovingly molded out of his own genitalia. (I'm absolutely serious.) Of course, he saw this doohickey as a treasure befitting that of a birthday present to lemontea last year.

Shortly after he had bestowed his "gift" upon her, he broke up with her for his "lesbian" co-worker.

Shopgirl: Told you, you should've glued that thing on top of his car. Reminds me of that Teletubby.

Exhibit 1: Green Teletubby.

Shopgirl: Why do you even still have that thing?

Shoes...??? :(

lemontea: Haha, yeah. I don't know, really. I keep it tucked away in a shoe box. You know, random--but Bert called me the other day and left me voicemail about how his boyfriend Ernie had wanted to see what my ex's junk looked like.

Shopgirl: That's so weird. Did you actually bring it?

lemontea: Yeah. It's a good thing he caught me before I left.

***

lemontea's ex, whom we shall henceforth know as Ken, seemed like an unassuming, well-educated, and cerebrally-gifted intellectual. Actually, I'm understating that. He's a total geek, which was endearing about him and seemed like a trait that lemontea truly prized. Though everyone's got their secret tendencies, who would have known that Ken had that much freaky-deaky to him?

I promise this has a point. Did you ever create a list of qualities that you find ideal in a mate? Don't lie. And making even just one list still counts. It's ok, I did, too. (See Gettin' ready to check you off.)

The really funny thing is that we create these lists, thinking that once we find someone who fits all of the criteria, they are serendipitously perfect.

The problem though, is that when you meet someone who satisfies "all of the requirements," what's to guarantee that the requirements are enough to sustain the attraction?

To satisfy our curiosity, we conducted a research study at Maggiano's, subject count = 1.

Shopgirl: Do you think that people learn fondness for each other and build attraction from there on, or do you think that attraction lends itself to build fondness?

Server: I don't think you can predict whether or not you'll fall in love with someone.

Survey has it, folks--you cannot fall in love instantaneously. Some of you may agree, while some of you believe that love at first sight is possible. I liken this debate to that of the chicken or the egg. What comes first--attraction or fondness?

Or maybe you've got it all figured out. But what happens when your Barbie or Ken turns out to be one of those creepy Troll dolls with the bejeweled belly buttons?

Will probably avoid looking through any of lemontea's shoe boxes, for future reference,
Shopgirl.

Saving the world, one PDF and exam at a time.

Just over three months ago, I sat propped up in bed, laptop rested against my knees, a TV remote control in the left hand, and a glass of shiraz in the other. Surely I was living la vida loca. It was my first summer vacation, and I was going to milk it in all my laziness glory. After two years of teaching inner city high school, I was spent, and I needed recovery time before med school began later that summer.

Now here I am, still propped up in bed with my laptop rested against the knees, except no TV remote control in the left, and no wine either. In fact, I don't even own a TV--not because I am trying to prove an elitist point--more so because I am too cheap to buy a TV or subscribe to cable. (Thank you, Netflix!) And on enjoying some alcohol on a weeknight? Fah-get about it! There comes a point when my body boasts, "Oh, you fancy, huh? You want that drink? Ok, drink it." At this point, I decide that I am the master of my body and retort, "It's my body, I do what I want!" and drink the crap out of my drink with much gusto and fervor. Of course, this mismatch in preferences normally ends in tragedy for my mind and body as I stumble for Advil in my medicine cabinet the morning after celebrating, post-exam.

Med school has got my entire class on iPads in an initiative to go paperless and more high-tech. Many of us have adapted to take notes on PDFs using apps like iAnnotate, Evernote, Smartnote, and Noterize. Though I prefer writing with my stylus on the iPad over taking notes on my laptop, I miss the crisp turn of a page. But if I must to save trees, then it shall be done! Well, that, and I don't have to carry an extra ten pounds of notes with me when I study.

We're currently in a testing block, where we've had about seven tests for seven Mondays in a row. Cardiovascular physiology on Tuesday, and we wrap up, just in time for Thanksgiving. It couldn't come any sooner!

As for life out of med school--well, it's pretty much non-existent. You know the time you hate when you're sitting around bored? Yeah, I miss that. In fact, I want that. I'd happily accept moments of boredom if that means that I get time to breathe. I could use it to blog, which would have been nice, since my blogging time is currently infiltrating my precious sleep time. :(

I just have to remember that break is near. I don't know if it makes me want to work harder or get lazier because it's so close. I guess we'll find out on Tuesday!

Sad that I didn't go to sleep earlier since tomorrow is going to be another exhausting day,

Shopgirl.

Who'da thought 40s and stuffed bell peppers would be inspired by the film called Douchebag?

It's Sunday night, and I should be in bed right now but will take a few minutes to reflect on recent memories. Last weekend (pre-Halloween), I was in a very rainy, cold yet still beautiful SF for a brief vacation/interview on Monday. I stayed with my close friend who I'll call CCL (for crazy cat lady), nicknamed with affection. Please skip over the next section as it is for my own record keeping of a great weekend but might not entirely make sense.
***************************************************************
Friday night: landed after 7 PM, got a ride to the city, ate dinner at Limon (Peruvian rotisserie restaurant), had vegan coconut chocolate ice cream at Birite (because everything else had eggs in it), then bar hopped in the Mission.

Saturday noon/early afternoon: meandered in the Richmond district to buy a walnut red pepper spread, half a loaf of whole grain bread (like real whole grain), and lettuce to create a simple lunch of Caesar salad (with tofu-based dressing), bread with walnut spread, and leftover butternut squash soup. Topped off with Maccha green tea... so simple but healthful feeling and pure.

Sat afternoon: played a bit of piano and made instant friends with CCL's roommate who was a piano minor and quite talented; then did a Charlie Brown dance; went to 24 hour fitness for a 2.5 hour workout (which I never do unless my friends just linger); short detour at RW's house where he showered and changed and CCL and I sampled delicious baked apples; ate pho for dinner; went to Bob's Donut shop to watch the Giants win the pennant with some local SF quirky folks; watched Douchebag and then inspired by the movie, bought forties to have at the apartment. Throughout this eventful night.... I was probably the only person in the city gallivanting the streets with running shorts on and trying not to freeze (think: 3:30 PM to 11:30 PM).

Sunday: Lunch at Pakwan in the Mission, then more Birite ice cream, then Painted Ladies in search of Full House, then working at Peet's, playing piano while CCL made amazing stuffed red bell peppers (also inspired by Douchebag) stuffed with Israeli couscous, plus roasted squash and onions on the side and brown rice. I love food. This followed by more piano playing and even some basic Chinese conversation.. which never happens.

Monday: U o P interview.... we'll see how that goes, hopefully I will know by December. I thank the stars that it was not raining since I was in a suit/dragging luggage in public transportation that day.

**************************************************************************
Now, this past weekend I did not go anywhere on both nights... which was unplanned and unintended. Despite disappointment and feelings of "meh" all Sunday, I feel much better now. Normally, my moods get worse as the weekend nears the end, but I think this weekend is the exception. Granted, on both nights I was able to practice piano (keyboard) rather intensely and began to feel reconnected with the instrument. But it was still hard to shake off this whiny feeling of not getting to go out. I'm over it now, and plan to make up for it next weekend.

It was a slow process to get over it. I slept in today, it was a beautiful day, but I wasn't smiling inside. Even after cleaning my room and kitchen, even after finally getting the knitty gritty done with the last supplemental application, riding bike along the beach for an hour, I wasn't fully perked up. It's times like these when I really struggle with what I feel and with what my brain tells me, that there's really no big deal going on so why do I feel so blah? That level of self awareness sometimes makes it harder to bounce back.

Time always helps... and as the day went on I could see more the fruits of my labor. I went grocery shopping with the intention to cook stuffed bell peppers for the whole week, cooked them, then met with coworkers to plan out a full lesson. I'm pretty happy with how the peppers turned out actually. And there's some roasted squash on the side too.

Thinking back, I got a lot of small tasks done today that I had been putting off for weeks. It feels good to know that I was so bored/alone for half the weekend that I had to just get up and do something, because goodness knows I wouldn't when I'm having fun.

Feelings make me feel weird.

Having a sudden urge for chicken noodle soup, I chasséd into the kitchen and reached for the can collecting dust in my cupboard. I plunged my hand into the dishwasher (it's where we keep clean dishes) for my housemate's can opener. Hm, not electronic, I thought. That's ok. I can bleed people--I can open a can! I would place the can opener parallel to the brim, allowing the blade to touch the very edge of the surface. Fixated upon the handle, simple, repetitive torque applied should do the trick.


Needless to say, I threw the can opener back into the dishwasher and shoved the can into the dreary crevices of my cupboard. No, seriously, I don't really know what's back there.


I had glorious, restful sleep last night, after several nights of insomnia. Of course, that means that my brain refuses to turn off tonight. It's 1:22 AM and I know I want to go to class tomorrow. Bright and early, 8 AM. I suppose I could be studying for my histology "quiz" on Monday, but that would be too productive and my brain despises productivity.


I started seeing a therapist to discuss my insomnia and my pending ADHD status. What started out as a conversation about my difficulty sleeping and concentrating suddenly turned into a survey of my commitment issues and fear of intimacy. I sulked into the leather couch and knew we weren't going to be focusing on my ADHD evaluation anymore. Feelings. Ugh, we are talking about feelings. There is no conversation topic more awkward to me than my feelings.

Therapist: Anytime you have a feeling, I want you to write it down so that we can talk about it the following week.

Shopgirl: Um, ok, what kind of feeling? A good feeling? A sad feeling?

Therapist: Any kind of feeling.

Shopgirl: Ok, because... I mean--I have lots of feelings, I guess. And I mean, when you say 'any kind of feeling,' that's kind of vague. Like, hunger. I mean, that's a feeling. And you know, sometimes I get really hungry. And when I get really hungry, I get upset because I still can't believe that I haven't eaten.

Therapist: Well, I want you focus on your deep-rooted emotions. For instance, how you feel when you feel wronged, or how you feel when something wonderful happens.

Shopgirl: When I feel wronged, well, yeah, I feel wronged. I mean, what am I... huh?

Therapist: Just write it down.

Shopgirl: Okie dokie.

I didn't want to lug my 10-pound journal and grabbed the smallest notebook I had lying around. This notebook happened to be my 4" x 8" American Medical Association spiral notebook. It even has a quick medical reference guide! That way while I'm documenting "feelings," I can memorize handy values like normal blood cell and SGPT/ALT-7 counts.

Ready to get in touch with my "feelings,"
Shopgirl.